The One That Got Away
by Hadley Joy
Summary: After years of ignoring him, Clara Potter, finally finds herself in the arms of Draco Malfoy; but will their love be able to last?
1. Chapter 1

She held her breath for a moment to listen carefully to see if she had woke him up; but the only noise to disturb the room were snores that came from the other side of the wall in the room belonging to her pathetic cousin, Dudley. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again if she tried, Clara rubbed her eyes awake before she just lay there staring at the ceiling. She watched the shadow of the curtains dancing in the moonlight play against the ceiling when she stretched out her leg, causing her blankets to go crashing to the floor which caused her cat at the foot of her bed to jump. Clara reached to grab her midnight dark cat, named Mittens, and held him tightly in her arms only to have him jump from her arms. Just her luck really…the cat…her blankets. She was surprised that the blankets hadn't fallen during the violent thrashing in the night. No, it only took a simple stretch to cause them to go falling. Clara groaned as she looked over the side of her bed and to the floor where her blankets had fallen.

Her blankets lay in a heap on the floor where Mittens lay kneading himself a new bed. The only problem was his new bed contained her brother's filthy socks, feathers that Hedwig had lost, rotten apple cores, Muggle and Wizarding candy wrappers, carelessly strewn spellbooks, dirty Gryffindor robes, and a summer's worth of _Daily Prophet's._ While she wasn't exactly the neatest person, she normally tried to keep this room clean to appease Aunt Petunia's ranting and raving; only this summer, she didn't have the heart to bother Harry about it. She knew her brother felt responsible for what had happened to Sirius after the debacle at the Ministry of Magic. Last year, Harry had had one of his _dreams _which had been manipulated by Voldemort and because of it, they had lost Sirius. Hell, she even felt partly responsible for his death. She should have tried to talk Harry out of the break-in at the Ministry; but she was too much a follower to do so and now because of it, they were both mourning one of the men they had considered to be somewhat of a father figure. A man who had been one of their godparents, not to mention that he was one of their final connections to their parents. Sirius seemed to know just what to say when she was having a moment that was depression related to her parents. She twirled the necklace that hung around her neck, which had once been her mother's. That had been a gift from Sirius and he had given it to her at a time, just when she had needed it the most.

Merlin, she missed Sirius so much too. Sometimes the pain overwhelmed her, but after she had finally come out of her depression last year, she refused to go back into one. Last year had been rough on both Harry and Clara. She had been dealing with the death of Cedric Diggory, a boy whom she had considered one of her closest friends, not to mention the first boy she ever fancied. Her pain was different from her brother's, who had been dealing with the smear campaign against him. She had been too caught up in her own grief to be there for him, so now was her chance to make it up to her brother. Although she was a good shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen, the follow through and actually doing something about it weren't her strong points. But for Harry, she would do anything. He was the family worth living for.

"Clara," her brother whispered from the bunk below.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Clara hissed, clearly startled out of her reverie.

"Sorry, but you were the one who was talking in her sleep and woke me up," Harry said, his voice easily telling that he wasn't fully awake.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clara muttered, trying not to give incriminate herself. The last thing she needed was Harry worrying about her with everything else he had going on.

"You kept saying 'he's only a boy,'" Harry said pointedly.

"Quidditch," Clara lied.

"Liar," Harry scoffed.

A silence overcame the room as Dudley's snores and Mittens's meows began to grow louder. A sense of guilt loomed in Clara's stomach partly over waking her brother up from his beauty sleep; but more from the fact that she had to lie to him about why she woke him up. Like she said, if she could have made a change to the Ministry debacle, it would have been to talk her brother out of it. So, if her brother didn't know what was going on…the less likely he was to jump to rash conclusions that could get them and others killed. Besides, Harry had enough of his own nightmares, real life or not to deal with. Why just last night he had a nightmare about Sirius where he was practically crying that he was sorry in his sleep. No, this was for the best…

"You had a dream, didn't you?" Harry asked.

"We all have dreams, Harry. We just don't always remember them…" Clara said trying to maneuver her way out of the conversation.

"But I know you do," Harry persisted, clearly not understanding her attempts to squash the conversation. "I know that kind of dream…"

"Harry, how many times do we have to go over this?" Clara groaned. "I've told you time and time again that any dreams I have aren't the same type that yours are."

"You may think that now, until you have to face the consequences," Harry whispered.

"There aren't any consequences to dreams you can't remember," Clara lied. "And Harry, I've tried to skirt around your feelings as of late; but you need to stop blaming yourself for Sirius."

"But he's gone and you know it's my fault," Harry faltered.

"No, it's You—Vol—Voldemort's," Clara stumbled. "He's the one who manipulated you."

"But I should have known better," Harry argued.

"Because obviously you could have foreseen everything that happened that night," Clara said.

"You know that's not what I meant," Harry muttered.

"Maybe he's in a better place," Clara sighed attempting to turn the conversation a bit more positive. "I mean, he wasn't living much of a life as a wanted fugitive. At least now he's with Dad and I'm sure those two are pranking the hell out of whatever kind of afterlife there is, and probably driving Mum insane."

"Maybe," Harry said noncommittally.

"And if there's one thing you and I both know about Sirius, he never would have blamed you for any of it. Sirius loved you and wasn't he just minutes before telling you how proud of you he was? He wouldn't want you living like this," Clara continued.

Harry didn't respond to that. Probably because he knew it was true. Harry had seen Sirius' countless attempts to draw Clara out of her depression last year and he knew that their godfather wanted them to live their lives to the fullest, knowing full well the horrors of a life without joy. Both of their godfathers knew those kinds of lives. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were both named godparents to Harry and Clara Potter; but Harry seemed to have a better connection with Sirius and Clara had a better one with Remus. Granted, the Potter twins had known their fair share of disappointments over the year living with the Dursleys. They had been stuck here since they were only babies because neither Sirius nor Remus had been able to care for them. Sirius had been locked up for a crime he didn't commit and Remus didn't trust himself to take care of two children with his condition. While they had missed out on so much together, Clara was still grateful for the past couple years she did get to spend with both of them; giving her the opportunity to learn more about her parents. The subject of her parents seemed to fascinate her. It was a subject she never seemed to know enough of or ever grow tired of. There were so many unanswered questions about her parents that sometimes, she didn't even know where to being to ask questions. Suddenly, Clara felt something plop heavily onto her stomach.

"Bloody hell," Clara muttered.

Using the moonlight to see, she spotted Mittens's outline on her stomach before he began to crawl his way closer to her neck. Clara turned her head to see Harry standing beside their bunk bed looking up at her. Without even saying a word, Harry threw Clara's strewn blankets back onto her bed. She thanked her brother, who didn't mutter a word; but instead, he pulled himself onto his tiptoes so that he could better see Clara and her face in the moonlight, causing her emerald eyes to shine profusely which matched his.

"You'd tell me, right?" Harry asked.

"Tell you what?" Clara questioned.

"Tell me if your dreams were like mine?" Harry furthered.

Clara looked away from her brother for a moment before biting her lip. What kind of answer was she supposed to give him? She couldn't tell him the truth that she was purposely keeping this from him; but she would also feel guilty about lying to him once more. Why couldn't things just be black and white? Why did there always have to be that grey area that made things more complicated?

"Clara," Harry groaned.

"I don't have a connection to Voldemort like you do," Clara responded, telling the truth but avoiding her predicament.

"Maybe you just don't know about it yet," Harry argued.

"I think I would bloody well know if I was connected to _him,_" Clara scoffed.

"I'm just looking out for you," Harry sighed. "I'm just trying to keep my little sister safe."

"You don't always have to play the hero where I'm concerned," Clara said, trying to show that she was more confident than she actually was. In all honesty, even if there were consequences, she was rather thankful to have Harry undertaking that job where she was concerned. "I'm only younger than you by twenty three minutes, hardly a significant amount of time."

"Significant enough for me to be older," Harry smirked.

"Something you'll never let me forget," Clara groaned.

"Because it was a job forced upon me," Harry teased with a chuckle.

"Because my job as "The Chosen One's" sister is any easier," Clara teased right back.

"I see you read the article then," Harry sighed.

"I only glanced at the title," Clara said. "But I couldn't exactly miss it with it lying on top of my trunk."

"It's not something we can hide from; we both know it's true," Harry said keeping them on topic.

"Maybe the prophecy is wrong," Clara argued, knowing that it wasn't very likely.

"Dumbledore trusts this one to be real and so do I," Harry said with a faltering bravado. She knew there was a weakness to her brother, one he only sometimes revealed to her; but only for a fleeting moment.

"Dumbledore isn't infallible," Clara said. She knew the Hogwarts headmaster to be wise beyond her own years; but she was still hopeful that even he could be mistaken. "Besides, it's too much to expect of one person."

"I promise to get as much help from you, Ron, and Hermione as I possibly can…" Harry began.

"You know that there's no way in hell that the three of us are letting you do this by yourself," Clara groaned. "Sometimes, I swear you're really thick."

"I just want to keep you all safe," Harry argued.

"And we're trying to do the same thing for you," Clara said.

"I think we'll just have to agree to disagree this time," Harry commented.

Harry reached his hand up to ruffle Clara's long ginger hair, which caused to her swat at his hand only to cause his hand to get stuck in her long locks. She wanted to scream; but she knew that if she woke up Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, there could be a chance that they wouldn't let them return to Hogwarts. She would never put it passed them, especially after what had happened the summer between first and second year. Harry withdrew his fingers from her snarly hair before he gently pushed his sister._ Oh the joys of being the little sister, _Clara thought. There were its advantages; but being picked on was definitely not one of her strong points. Thankfully, she was able to dish it out just as well as she got it…at least verbally. With a grin plastered on his face, Harry crawled back onto the bottom bunk. It was only minutes before Harry's gentle snores joined Dudley's rumbles, Hedwig pecking at her cage, and Mittens scratching and the bed. She shook her head knowing that it was only a matter of time before she wouldn't have to put up with this symphony of sounds anymore. Clara stifled a yawn as she felt her eyes beginning to grown heavy once more. While this wasn't a normal occurrence once she woke up, she too was soon back asleep.

Clara was awoken the next morning by a sharp rap on their bedroom door. She slowly opened her eyes to find the sunlight streaming into the bedroom and the curtains still rustling. Harry's soft snores still came from beneath her, clearly unphased by Aunt Petunia's wake-up call. She liked to avoid conflict with her Muggle relatives at all costs; but she also knew Harry could use a little more rest. So, she decided that she would wake him after she had finished using the bathroom. Clara walked down the hall and much to her chagrin, found the bathroom door already shut and in use. She rolled her eyes knowing full-well the culprit: Dudley. Honestly, it was very impractical having three teenagers using one bathroom. But knowing the Dursleys, the fact that she and her freaky brother were even allowed to use the same facilities as them was probably purely out of the goodness of their hearts. How many times had she heard Uncle Vernon mutter a line similar to that? Probably too many times to count. As she waited for Dudley to emerge from the bathroom, she found herself sliding against the wall and to the floor. To pass the time, she decided to count the forty seven pictures of Dudley in the hall. Honestly, who needs that many pictures of one person? And that was just in a hall that hardly anyone saw. Downstairs was worse. While Dudley's face was plastered over number four Privet Drive, not a single picture of Clara or her twin graced any wall in the house. After waiting twenty minutes, she could no longer stand waiting; so, she plucked-up the courage and knocked firmly on the bathroom door.

"What do you want, Potter?" Dudley called.

"The bathroom would be nice," Clara said sarcastically.

"Can't you see I'm using it?" Dudley scoffed.

"Then I'll just go use your room," Clara threatened. Dudley was probably one of the only people she actually followed through on her threats to. Well him, Harry, and that annoying prat Draco Malfoy. Otherwise, her bark was far worse than her bite.

"Don't you dare!" Dudley gasped.

Almost instantaneously, Dudley opened the bathroom door causing steam to pour out after him. Clara was knocked back a step from the hot moist air which reeked of cologne. Dudley avoided eye contact with his cousin as he scurried past her. Then again, Dudley never really made eye contact with her or her brother since the dementor attack last year. That wasn't one of her finer moments. Moments before she had been snogging a random Muggle boy to try and drown her sorrows. Harry had yanked her by the arm to run with them only to have her realize that she hadn't even grabbed her wand. Stupid, careless mistakes…especially considering since she knew that Voldemort was running about the countryside. But that was a story for another time.

Clara quickly showered and dressed for the day in a green plaid shirt and jeans. She then walked back to her room to find Harry still sleeping, curled up with his pillow and her cat Mittens snuggled up by his neck. She had one of the strangest cats; but she loved him anyway. Picking up her cat, she pressed kisses against his nose before she gently threw him onto her own bed. He meowed at her as she reached for her own pillow. Knowing that he wouldn't understand the gesture, she still put a finger over her mouth signaling for the cat to be quiet before she whacked her brother in the face. Harry groaned.

"Don't make me do that again," Clara threatened. When Harry didn't move, she whacked him with her pillow once more.

"Knock it off, Clara," Harry groaned causing her to hit him again.

"Clara!" Harry hissed as he sat up in bed with his eyes practically glaring daggers at his sister. She stood there with a contented look on her face.

"Good morning, sunshine," Clara said sarcastically.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her as Aunt Petunia called for them to come downstairs for breakfast. Clara slowly walked toward the door as Harry scrambled to put on some normal clothes. Surprisingly, by the time she was at the stairs, Harry was right at her heels. With his longer stride, Harry overpassed her on the stairs as they walked toward the kitchen. When they got to the kitchen, they found cold, leftover porridge on the table. Clara could tell that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had already eaten because there was nowhere near enough porridge for two people left. After rolling her eyes, Clara looked over to the calendar to see that it was an even day meaning that it was Harry's day to eat the bigger portion. They had established this routine when they were younger to make sure that at least one of them got somewhat of a decent meal every other day. She was just thankful that they would be heading to the Burrow soon where they could eat as much as they wanted whether it was an odd or even day. As she sat at the table, she could see Aunt Petunia glaring at her from the sink.

"Good morning, Aunt Petunia," Clara said sweetly, trying to appease her aunt; but the woman only mustered a scowl. _More of a reaction than usual_, she though with a shrug.

"Sometimes I wonder why you even bother," Harry muttered from the seat beside her, shoveling tiny bites of porridge into his mouth.

"Because whether we like to admit it or not, they're still family," Clara whispered.

"Family who wishes we never existed," Harry argued in a low voice.

"It can't hurt to try," Clara shrugged. "I mean, what's the worst that can happen? We don't get to come back until next summer. How awful. Besides, sometimes I get the feeling that at least Aunt Petunia cares more then she lets on."

"Doubt it," Harry said.

Clara shrugged her shoulders again as she took a bite of the cold and overcooked porridge. This stuff was bloody awful. The sooner they got to the Burrow, the better. After the twins had finished eating their breakfast, Clara offered to wash their dishes; but Aunt Petunia quickly pushed Clara out of her kitchen. With a sigh of defeat, Clara headed back upstairs to find Harry seated at the lone desk in their room. He looked deep in thought as she climbed onto her top bunk.

"I've been thinking about your dream," Harry began.

"Because that's not creepy at all," Clara muttered.

"I think we should talk about it," Harry stated.

"I already told you that I don't remember much," Clara lied.

"But you remember something. What is it?" Harry furthered.

"I—I," Clara faltered. She needed to tell him something to get him off her back; but she didn't want to get him involved out of fear of the progression things escalated to last time. "Most of it was really dark and fuzzy and…a Dark Mark," she finished with a mutter.

"A Dark Mark? You know that's for the most loyal followers of Voldemort. I think he could be using you," Harry rushed.

"He isn't. I know he isn't," Clara argued.

"How do you know?" Harry countered.

"Because—because I actually mastered Occlumency," Clara said with a wince because she didn't want to rub that in to Harry's guilt; but it was the truth.

"I still don't like this," Harry muttered. "I think you should tell Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore isn't the solution to everything, Harry," Clara retorted.

"He'd want to know," Harry continued.

"Fine. Say he wants to know, he's a very busy man; especially now that he has all the Order business to attend to on top of Hogwarts affairs," Clara furthered.

"He's not too busy for us," Harry said almost childishly.

"Harry, it's not important enough to bother him over," Clara sighed.

"Either you tell him or I will," Harry said giving his sister an ultimatum.

"I'm not bothering him with a silly dream and neither should you. But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell him if I have another one. Deal?" Clara said trying to find the compromise.

Clara couldn't hear what Harry muttered; but she took his silence that he was going to take the compromise. As she settled back onto her bed, she called for her brother to had her yesterday's _Daily Prophet_. Harry bent over to the stack of old newspapers and carelessly tossed yesterday's paper up to her only to have it scatter all over her bed causing Mittens to pounce on top of it attempting to attack it.

"Prat," Clara muttered.

She then gently tossed her cat to the other end of her bed as she tried to put the paper back in order. As she opened the paper, one picture stood out to her: the picture of Draco Malfoy and his mother with the headline _Fallen From Grace, Malfoy's Son and Wife Leave Trial. _Draco looked quite sullen in the picture, especially compared to how he looked when annoyed her. She almost felt bad for Draco…almost. In all honesty, she thought Draco Malfoy to be nothing more than a pompous, arrogant toerag. He had been nothing more than a prat since she had met him on her first day to Hogwarts. Apparently, Harry had an earlier meeting with him in Diagon Alley; but she had been in a different part of the shop and had thankfully missed an encounter with him that day. Being a prat was nothing new for Draco Malfoy; but he was a different sort of prat to her. From the day she had met him, he had tried to befriend her; but seeing how he treated her brother, she had refused him. The only problem with that was he had refused to leave her alone. The bloke followed her around like some lost lovesick puppy since day one of Hogwarts, no matter how many times she tried to push him away. It only seemed to make him come crawling back for more. Remus had once compared Draco's attention seeking to that of how her father pursed her mother; but that was clearly the farthest thing from the truth…or at least she hoped it was.

It was no secret that Draco hated her brother. He was actually quite vocal about that fact; but he would also constantly strive for Clara's attention, which usually annoyed her even more in the process. She wasn't sure when it happened; but according to Pansy Parkinson's strong hatred and Daphne Greengrass's confirmation, Draco fancied her. She tried everything in her power to push him toward any other girl and hate her; but her attempts always proved to be futile. She suppose it didn't help matters that she was often forced into spending time with him, which he without a doubt took to his advantage. The only joy she received out of his company was being able to push him toward pug-faced Parkinson, whom he always looked reluctant to spend any time with, especially after he had just been with Clara. Draco Malfoy was probably the one person who could easily drive her crazy, especially with the way he followed her…or at least the way he did.

Truth was, things had changed since the Ministry break-in last year. She had been part of the group of Dumbledore's Army that had his father outed as a Death Eater and imprisoned. Draco had directed all his anger toward Harry, even going as far as threatening him last year; but to Clara, he was completely silent. It was actually quite strange to not have him following her around; but with the end of the school year madness, she hadn't taken too much time to dwell on it. Part of her wanted to say that he deserved what happened to his family, especially after the way he acted…being a slimy git and all; but she knew that she couldn't do that, despite how much she wanted to. She couldn't because she could empathize with him; knowing that feeling what it was like to not have your family together. Probably one of the worst feelings in the world; one which she couldn't never even wish on her worst enemy in the world.

"What are you reading about?" Harry asked.

"The Malfoys," Clara said nonchalantly.

"Got off easy if you ask me," Harry scoffed.

"Because Azkaban is clearly a five star hotel," Clara said sarcastically. "Only with dementors."

"Dementors which are easily swayed to doing Voldemort's bidding," Harry argued.

"Someone's been studying his History of Magic," Clara smirked.

"It's common knowledge, Clara," Harry retorted.

Clara raised her eyebrows at her brother before she returned her glance to the picture of Draco Malfoy once more. The boy stood rather tall beside his mother dressed all in black in only the finest that the Wizarding world had to offer. The boy who was spoiled with only the best from his Slytherin serpent tie clip to the Hogwarts ring on his hand. Clara shook her head and closed the paper and looked to her brother who was feeding Hedwig a treat through her cage.

"Are you all packed?" Clara asked her brother only to receive a noncommittal shrug. "Well, you'd better be. Dumbledore's going to be here at eleven."

"I know," Harry responded. "I read the note."

"Well, can I see it again then?" Clara asked.

"Erm—I may have lost it," Harry said rather sheepishly.

"Doesn't surprise me with this room," Clara retorted.

"Come off it, the Dursleys don't care. Just as long as our freaky belongings don't leave the room," Harry argued.

"That very well may be; but you're forgetting you have a roommate who does care about the state of her room," Clara said.

"You're just saying that because you can't find your mess under my mess," Harry said.

"So, my mess is more important," Clara teased.

"I'll clean it if you like," Harry offered.

"No, we might as well leave it for the Dursleys to clean. If the smell starts penetrating the outside people might not think they're normal anymore," Clara smirked.

Harry chuckled in response before he returned to playing with Hedwig. The Potter twins isolated themselves to their room for the day. While some people may not like isolation, in the Dursley household it was better than the alternative: spending time with the Muggles who hated them. Clara rummaged through her packed trunk and managed to find one of the few books that she owned that she hadn't read yet: Lockhart's _Magical Me_. With a sigh of defeat she picked it up. Only out of pure boredom did she decide to read the book. Beside, maybe there would be a chance of a decent laugh at her former Defence professor. Well, if you could call him that. The man was currently a patient at St. Mungo's and didn't even know who he was. Clara tried to force herself through the first chapter; but found the fraud's work to be rather dull. So instead, she opted for a nap cuddled up with Mittens rather than be bored to death.

After sleeping for a few hours, she snuck outside to stretch her legs for a few minutes in the fresh air; but she made sure that she stayed in the back yard. The Dursleys obviously wouldn't want anyone to see her parading herself around the neighborhood. She lay on the grass in the backyard watching the clouds, something she had often done with one of her dear friends before his untimely death; but that brought a pang of sadness to her heart so she went back inside. Upon returning to her room, she found her brother was no longer inside so she snooped through his stack of _Daily Prophet's_ until she came to the one with the article about Harry being "The Chosen One." Seeing it made her rather content that they spent their summers outside of the Wizarding world. Sure, rumors had a summer to fester; but at least they got to be removed from the festering. There seemed to be no being proactive when it came to the rumors…they could only be reactive.

After hours and the Dursleys finally went to bed, Clara found herself cleaning up the bedroom only out of pure boredom. Looking at all the trash piled on the floor made her cringe on the inside. She wanted to yell at Harry who had perched himself at the desk again; but when she walked over to him, she found him with his head against the window pane and drool running down his face onto it. Careful not to touch it too much, she bent down and threw one of his dirty socks at him, which stuck to the drool on his face. This time she cringed outwardly as she criticized her brother.

"Harry, you're bloody disgusting."

Clara pulled her trunk out of the corner and opened it once more to make sure that she had everything. It really wasn't a hard task to do since she practically lived out of her trunk over the summers…unlike her brother who liked to take over the entire room. She crossed things off her mental checklist and when she was about halfway through her trunk, Harry suddenly popped out of the chair. He must have noticed the sock stuck to his face because he peeled it off and stared at it with a puzzled expression for a moment before he tossed it under the bunk bed. Harry then looked to his baby sister with a look of excitement on his face.

"He's here," Harry said.

"Let's go then," Clara said.

Harry then looked at the floor sheepishly before he quickly scrambled to reach for strewn spellbooks, robes, and other school materials that lay on the floor that had been covered by the newspapers. For a moment, Clara was amused by the flying stack of newspapers until Mittens started to hiss. She reached for her cat before trying to coax him into his cage, knowing that Dumbledore expected them to be ready for his arrival.

"I thought I told you to pack," Clara groaned.

"Actually, you asked if I was packed," Harry said though the chaos of flying newspapers. "You never told me to do it."

"Harry James Potter!" Clara said shaking her head in her hands.

"I just need a minute," Harry said.

"I'll meet you downstairs then," Clara said.

With that, Clara closed her trunk before she locked it. She slung her bookbag over her shoulders, shoved her wand in the back pocket of her jeans, and reached for Mittens's cage. It probably was true that girls packed too much; but honestly, she was taking everything that belonged to her name with her. If only everything that belonged to her name didn't have to be so heavy. With one last look back to her brother, she found Harry digging under the bed for something. He tossed an apple core over his shoulder missing Clara by only a few inches. Not wanting to be the target for the next thing he threw, she rolled her eyes and started dragging her belongings down the hall.

Clara could hear the conversation reverberating up the stairway to where she stood. Apparently, Dumbledore's arrival had woken up the Dursleys. That in itself was enough to make a person cringe; but what was worse was hearing the actual conversation. It didn't sound like Uncle Vernon was none too happy having Dumbledore in his home. Then again, Clara had never known Uncle Vernon to be happy to have anyone of their _freaky_ variety in his house. But this almost seemed worse than "normal." At that moment, it clicked. She realized that Harry had forgotten to tell their guardians that Dumbledore was coming to take them away tonight. If they had known, they probably would have had a party read for after they left. Instead, there was quite a bit of hostility in the air. Clara set her belongings down in the hall before she walked back to their bedroom door.

"Harry, did you forget to tell the Dursleys anything?" Clara asked sweetly.

"Can't you tell that I'm busy?" Harry grunted.

"Can't you tell that you forgot to tell the Dursleys that Dumbledore was coming?" Clara retorted.

Harry listened for a moment as Uncle Vernon's shouts echoed into the bedroom. Harry groaned as he finished shoving his belongings into his trunk.

"You could have said something too you know," Harry muttered.

"Yes, I could have; but you're older and your responsibility. Besides, the letter was addressed to you," Clara said placing her hands on her hips.

"You're usually the more responsible of the two of us," Harry argued.

"Fine, I'll just go do the responsible thing and take care of your bloody mess," Clara muttered.

"I'll do it," Harry groaned. "Just sit on my trunk quick."

Clara sat on her brother's trunk as he locked it shut before he rushed out the door. She could hear her brother's footsteps pounding down the stairs. When they stopped, that's when the shouting began to intensify. It probably wasn't fair to let Harry take the brunt of all of it, so she headed back down the hall to pick up her belongings. They were still heavy. If only she could legally use magic, this process would be far easier. When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs with her things, she found Harry talking with Dumbledore. The old man nodded in her direction which she returned. Maybe her eyes were deceiving her; but the man Harry so often glorified looked like he had aged a hundred years over the summer. It wasn't that she didn't like Dumbledore; because she did…but she just always felt like he was hiding something. And after finding out that he had hidden Harry's Prophecy from them all these years…part of her couldn't help but wonder what else the old man had been hiding from them.

"Aren't—aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked, interrupting Clara's thoughts.

"Yes, all in good time, Harry; but I'm afraid I have a matter I need to discuss with your aunt and uncle first," Dumbledore responded. "So, we'll only intrude a little longer."

"You think so, do you?" Uncle Vernon hissed as he narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore. "You have no right…"

"Either we do it now or I can find a time to bring a few Order members with me," Dumbledore said rather sternly.

"Now is fine," Uncle Vernon muttered losing his bravado.

"This should go well," Clara muttered sarcastically.

Dumbledore ushered them into the sitting room. Clara took a seat beside Harry on the loveseat as Dumbledore walked around the room, looking at the countless pictures of Dudley that covered the place. Clara wondered if she was surprised by the lack of anything related to her and her brother; but she doubted it. He was a wise man, even a fool would know that. Dumbledore turned around to look straight at the Dursleys.

"As you no doubt are aware, Harry and Clara will come of age in a year's time…" the old man began.

"No," Aunt Petunia interrupted.

"Pardon me?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"No, they won't be of age for another two years. They're a month younger than Dudley and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next," Aunt Petunia explained.  
>"I'm sorry, I assumed that you were aware that in the Wizarding world one comes of age at seventeen," Dumbledore explained.<p>

"Preposterous!" Uncle Vernon muttered. "That's absolutely preposterous. Bonkers if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," Dumbledore continued. "I'm merely stating a fact. Another fact remains and that is that the dark wizard Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding world is already in a state of war, which undoubtedly has reached the Muggle line. Harry and Clara, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill are in even greater danger than the day I left them on your doorstep fifteen years ago. I recall leaving you a letter about the murder of James and Lily, family to you, and I expressed a hope that you would be able to care for them as they were your own…like family..."

By this point, Dumbledore was somewhat shaking and the slightest hint of anger was evident in his eyes. Clara was surprised to see Dumbledore like this. The man almost always held his temper in check, so she couldn't help but look to her brother. Harry too had a slight look of shock on his face. Not only did they never see Dumbledore like this; but they had never seen anyone put the Dursleys in their place quite like this, especially not Clara or Harry. If they had ever talked like this to them, they probably would have ended up back in the cupboard without food for a week faster than one could say magic.

"You did not do as I asked. You have not treated them like family…the family they deserved after the travesty of losing their parents. Instead, all they have known is neglect and cruelty…" Dumbledore began again.

"You're off your rocker!" Uncle Vernon shouted. "I don't know where you think you come off…" but Professor Dumbledore stood tall over the wide man, causing him to instantly shut up.

"The magic I evoked over this house fifteen years ago means that Harry, Clara, and _you_ have powerful protection while they can still call this house a home; something you've hardly provided. No matter how miserable they've been here, how unwelcome, how poorly treated, you have at least provided them a room_ purely out of the goodness of your hearts_, rather grudgingly…making it a poor excuse for a home. Now, this magic will cease to exist the moment that your niece and nephew turn seventeen; in other words, when they come of age in the Wizarding world. Now, for the final favor I ask of you…I only ask that you allow them both to return to this house once more before their seventeenth birthday. This will ensure that the protection will continue until that time."

All eyes were on the Dursleys. Dumbledore looked at them rather accusingly, while Harry and Clara weren't really sure what expression they should be wearing. For a few moments, there seemed to be a staring contest between the two sides. Clara watched as Dudley sat there with a confused look on his face, Aunt Petunia looked flushed, and Uncle Vernon looked like he had something stuck in his throat…even to the point that his face was beginning to turn purple.

"I'll take your silences as your commitment," Dumbledore said.

Dumbledore then motioned for the Potter twins to stand, which they immediately did before walking out into the hall once more. Clara walked over to Mittens's cage and gently stroked behind his ear through the bars.

"Now you both have your trunks packed?" Dumbledore asked.

"It's all right here," Clara answered.

"Erm—" Harry said as he began to rub his head.

"Doubtful I would turn up?" Dumbledore suggested.

"I'll just go—and—erm—finish it off," Harry said quickly before running upstairs.

Clara watched as her brother ran up the stairs before she looked to Dumbledore. She wasn't sure what to say to the man. She knew that Harry would want her to tell him about her dream…but there was part of her that felt that she couldn't trust him. She knew that Harry trusted the man without fail; but there was something in her that couldn't fully commit to that. The only person she probably fully trusted was her brother anyway. She had a terrible time trusting people. She knew that people hated her reservations toward them; but she always felt the need to protect her heart from being hurt because people always seemed to leave. So, Clara pulled Mittens out of his cage and sat on the stairs to hold him in her lap as Dumbledore perused more pictures of Dudley and the Dursleys remained silent in the sitting room. After ten minutes, Harry finally came bounding down the stairs practically out of breath. He panted for air for a few seconds before Clara led them back into the sitting room to say goodbye to the Muggles.

"Bye, see you next summer then," Clara said.

"Erm—bye," Harry said.

The Dursleys simply blinked at them. Probably one of their better goodbyes. The twins walked back into the hall and Clara placed Mittens in his cage once more. Dumbledore opened the front door and walked outside, expecting the Potter twins to follow behind. As Dumbledore started a brisk pace down the front walkway, Harry and Clara struggled behind with their trunks and other belongings. Dumbledore must have noticed, because when the twins reached them, he waved his wand and their things were gone.

"Sir, why aren't we going with our things?" Clara questioned.

"You will in good time," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. "But first, I'm afraid I'm in need of your help at the moment. We have a bit of a tight schedule to keep."

"Where are we going sir?" Harry asked.

"Some consider curiosity a sin. Frankly, I think it's a necessary part of learning; but right now, I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit to have your curious appetites satisfied," Dumbledore said.

Clara looked to Dumbledore with an odd expression. The old man was always saying weird things that didn't make sense…at least not at first. Clara took in the surroundings of Privet Drive one last time until next summer. There weren't too many pleasant memories concerning the place, which didn't cause her any pain of parting the place. No, she was ready to be rid of the place. Only she and Harry had to come back once more. One more time for their protection. Dumbledore gently tapped her shoulder causing Clara to twirl around to face him.

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said softly.

"Sorry, what was that?" Clara asked.

"Take my arm, please," Dumbledore commanded offering her his arm with a gloved hand. Clara looked at it curiously.

"Sir, your hand…" Clara began.

"It's a rather thrilling tale if I do say so myself; but we have other matters to attend to. Please, take my arm," Dumbledore said with authority in her voice.

Clara looked to her brother who nodded his head toward Dumbledore, motioning her to take his arm. She gently clutched his arm, just above his elbow when an unnatural sensation started to overtake her. She felt like she was being forced through a tiny rubber tube which made her feel dizzy and caused her ears to throb in pain; pain which she hadn't felt since the years of her constant childhood ear infections. When they finally landed, she was so unstable that she crashed to the ground, cupping her ears in an attempt to soothe the pain. With her eyes closed tightly shut, Clara could feel a hand reach for her arm to help her up. Harry helped her to her feet.

"Clara, Harry, are you okay?" Dumbledore asked.

"Gimme a second," Clara muttered.

"I'm fine," Harry immediately responded. "We just apparated didn't we?"

"Quite successfully too, I might add. Most people vomit the first time," Dumbledore smiled.

"Can't imagine why," Clara muttered.

Clara suddenly reached for her stomach as the vomit lurched up her throat. It projected onto the cobbled pathway in front of her. So much for beating the odds and keeping her dinner. She could hear Harry and Dumbledore chuckling behind her as she groaned. She really could go for a glass of water right now; but she supposed she was just going to have to make do with the taste of vomit in her mouth because Dumbledore began to walk away. Harry yanked on his sister's arm as they both tried to catch up to Dumbledore, to help him out with whatever it was that required their assistance.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry pulled his little sister Clara by the arm so that they could catch up to Professor Dumbledore who was walking at a quick pace down the cobbled street. Clara still wasn't feeling her best after her first time apparating and her mouth still tasted of vomit. Of course Harry had been the one to beat the odds and not vomit—he always managed to do that. Why was it that she had to always be the _normal_ one? The Potter twins were nearly out of breath when they finally caught up to the old man and his brisk pace.

"Sir, where are we?" Harry questioned.

"Welcome to the charming village of Budleigh Babberton," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Charming? Not the adjective I'd use to describe it," Clara muttered.

"It's much more charming in the daylight," Dumbledore attempted to assure her; but she clearly wasn't buying it.

"I'm entitled to my own opinion and I still think the place is rather creepy," Clara mumbled to herself; but she had a suspicion that Dumbledore still heard what she said.

"Sir, what are we doing here?" Harry interrupted, which Clara was thankful for because it took the tension off her.

"Ah, well I've brought you both with me to help me persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts," Dumbledore answered.

"And you need the both of us?" Harry asked.

"That's what he said, Harry," Clara retorted.

"I do," Dumbledore said, clearly ignoring Clara's interjection. "I think I can find a use for the both of you."

As Dumbledore continued at his brisk pace, Harry reached for his sister's arm once more and slowed their pace down. They were only a few steps behind Dumbledore as Harry looked to his sister in confusion.

"What do you think he means that he can find a use for us?" Harry whispered.

"I'm not Dumbledore," Clara retorted.

"Clearly," Harry said. "He isn't so fickle."

"I'm not being fickle," Clara hissed.

"Then what would you call it?" Harry questioned.

"I—" Clara began.

"Pip pip," Dumbledore called. "Pick up the pace."

Clara groaned before she started jogging to catch up to the old man. For being so bloody old, that man could walk fast. When Harry and Clara had almost caught up to Dumbledore, the old man took a sharp left turn. Harry easily made the turn; but Clara hadn't been expecting it and she ran straight into a Muggle trash receptacle that crashed to the ground with a resounding thud. Clara winced at the noise before she saw Harry and Dumbledore walking further from her. She then looked back down to the trash receptacle to see its contents spilling out into the street. The right thing to do would be to pick the mess up; but she didn't have time. So, she apologized to the inanimate object before taking off in a sprint toward her travel companions. When Clara finally caught up to Dumbledore and Harry, she was somewhat peeved that they didn't stop and wait for her; but she didn't voice her frustrations. Instead, she walked quietly behind them as they chatted amiably….about her.

She listened to their conversation for the next several blocks as Harry voiced his concerns about Clara's dream. Dumbledore simply listened to Harry and nodded his head occasionally. He clearly didn't seem anywhere as near as concerned as Harry was; so that meant it was probably nothing. Or at least that's what she hoped; but then Harry turned around and insisted that she tell Dumbledore about her dream.

"I already told you that I'm not telling him right now," Clara groaned.

"And I told you that if you didn't, I would," Harry retorted. "In her dream, she saw a Dark Mark."

"Harry!" Clara hissed.

"A Dark Mark, you say?" Dumbledore pondered. "Sometimes our subconscious has a way of telling us what we are most worried about."

"There, dream interpreted: I'm scared of You—Know—Vol-Voldemort. It's not an uncommon fear especially these days," Clara said. While she was somewhat terrified of the Dark Lord, she did know that her dream wasn't about that.

"Add that to your never-ending list. Clowns, spiders…" Harry listed.

"Ron's scared of spiders too," Clara retorted.

"Water…" Harry continued.

"I'm not scared of _water._ I'm scared of the vastness of big bodies of water where I could easily drown," Clara argued.

"That would still be a fear of…_water_," Harry said.

"Well, I have every bloody right to be after Piers Polkiss pushed me in the bloody river and I nearly drowned," Clara hissed. "I have all perfectly rational fears."

"Rational fears," Harry scoffed.

"Ah, here we are," Dumbledore interrupted softly.

Dumbledore stopped outside an iron gate with a stone wall that surrounded the property. Clara wasn't prepared to stop, so she went crashing right into her brother with a loud "oomph." Dumbledore pushed on the iron gate which swung open easily…too easily. With an unreadable expression on his face, Dumbledore put his wand at the ready and told the Potter twins to do the same. Clara and Harry looked to each other quickly before they drew their wands from the jeans pockets. Dumbledore began to walk slowly, yet purposefully toward the house with Harry and Clara following close behind. They found the front door to already be opened a crack, so the Hogwarts headmaster pushed the door open farther to allow their small group entrance into the house.

Once inside the front hall of the house, they found the place to be completely disheveled and in utter disarray. To say the place was trashed may have been an understatement. Dumbledore motioned for them to stay close behind him as he led them from the front hall and into the sitting room. There were glass shards covering every surface as snow would cover the ground and the beautiful baby grand piano lay in shards and splinters in the corner with its ivory keys strewn on the floor and music in shreds. Clara couldn't understand why one of Professor Dumbledore's colleagues would live in such a sad state. The only reason she could think of was if…a slight shiver went up her spine…the Death Eaters had paid this place a visit. What if they were still inside, waiting for them? Blood dripped from the ceiling which made Clara feel rather uneasy. But Dumbledore took a drop of blood that had landed on his shoulder and wiped it with his finger before putting it into his mouth. Clara slightly cringed at Dumbledore's taste-testing and the uneasiness in her stomach continued to grow.

Clara tightly gripped her hand without her wand onto her brother's arm. Harry looked at her with a puzzled expression. Clearly, he wasn't getting the same impression about the place that she was. As she attempted to steady her breathing as to not give their position away, Dumbledore motioned for them to stay put. The old man then took several steps forward with the light from this wand leading the way. He stopped for a moment and titled his head to the right. Clara did the same thing to try and see what Dumbledore was seeing…and for a moment, she could have sworn she was the slippers in front of the armchair move; but that was a ridiculous thought. But maybe not, because Dumbledore jabbed the tip of his wand into the armchair. Clara's eyes widened as the armchair squealed before beginning to take shape as the chair shot upright into a standing position.

"Merlin's beard!" the shifting armchair shouted. "No need to disfigure me Albus."

The Potter twins backed away instinctively from the shouting armchair because it wasn't an everyday occurrence while Dumbledore remained quite calm and stood his ground. Clara's hand gripped her brother's arm tighter as her wand arm was still aimed right at the armchair. She didn't care if Dumbledore seemed to trust this armchair, she wasn't going to let her guard down until she was given a reason to do so. Dumbledore chuckled as the armchair slowly began to take shape into that of an older man.

"I must say that you make a very convincing armchair, Horace," Professor Dumbledore said lightly.

Dumbledore looked at the still shifting man/armchair with a smile on his face. The older man, who didn't look anywhere near as old as Dumbledore, patted his stomach before looking up at the group in front of him. The old man was rather overstuffed, quite like the armchair, and he was dressed in silk pyjamas which had been perfect for the upholstery of the armchair. Clara relaxed a little, but still kept her wand pointed toward the man as Harry lowered his wand and looked at the man in awe. After a few seconds, she finally lowered her wand noting that if Dumbledore new this man by name and had lowered his own wand, that he trusted this man called Horace. She tried her best to read between the unspoken lines; but her intellect proved to be of no assistance in this situation.

"What gave me away?" the overstuffed man asked.

"Dragon's blood," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Not to mention that if the Death Eaters had come knocking, there would have been a Dark Mark in the sky."

Clara groaned and smacked herself in the forehead for missing that small detail. She should have known better; but if there was another one of her faults, she was quick to let her fears sometimes win out over an intellectual process. The man named Horace explained that he was on the run from the Death Eaters and that his home belonged to some Muggles who were on holiday. Dumbledore suggested that they put the disheveled house back into its proper state of affairs and with a slight flick of the Hogwarts headmaster's wand, the room began to restore itself. The shards of glass from the picture frames floated back to their frames, the pieces of the chandelier zoomed into their rightful places, the piano was stored to proper order…everything was fixed and almost looked brand shiny new again. The Potter twins couldn't help but watch the restoration in amazement. Having lived much of their lives with Muggles, there were still things in the Wizarding world that surprised them. Dumbledore chuckled at the twins before he turned to introduce them to the man in his pyjamas.

"This, is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn," Dumbledore stated. "Horace, I don't think introductions are needed for these two, right?"

"No need! No need! They are the Potter twins of course!" Horace Slughorn said with great enthusiasm.

"This is…" Dumbledore began with his hand motioning toward Harry.

"Harry," Slughorn said jovially. "It's not difficult to distinguish between the two of them. Harry…and Clara."

Clara rolled her eyes at the normal mention of her name being last. Harry and Clara. Harry and Clara. Why couldn't it be Clara and Harry? There always seemed to be a certain order when mentioning twins that was rarely broken: Harry and Clara, Fred and George, Padma and Pavarti. She knew that most people didn't mean anything by it; but always being mentioned second made her feel like she was only second best, which wasn't a hard feeling to be familiar with almost always living in her brother's shadow. Clara's interest was piqued in the old mens' conversation about Delorese Umbridge.

Thinking about that nasty woman made her shiver. The evil toad had made her drink a cup full of tea laced with Veritiserum, trying to get her to disclose information on her brother. The only positive about that situation was that Umbridge asked her questions she couldn't honestly answer because at the time, she didn't have anything to do with Dumbledore's Army because she had been too wrapped-up in her own misery. It was after Christmas before she had actually finally joined the D.A. only to get Harry and Ron from pestering her; but she actually turned out to like the group…well, that was until they were caught by Umbridge. That was the worst of her punishments from Umbridge and she still had the fading scars on her hand to prove it. Clara absently rubbed the scars on the back of her hand. Her scars weren't anywhere near as deep as her brother's were…but that was because Draco Malfoy had saved her sorry arse on several occasions. Probably one of the few decent things that prat had actually done. Dumbledore suddenly moved to leave the room because he needed to use the loo.

"Don't think I don't know why you're here, Albus!" Slughorn shouted after him. "The answer's still no. Absolutely and unequivocally, no."

Clara turned to watch Dumbledore leave the room before she looked back to Slughorn who looked back at her and chuckled slightly. Clara then turned to her brother who turned to her. There seemed to be this awkwardness between the three of them, when Clara saw something that caught her eye. She found a shelf of Wizarding photographs, so she walked over to have a look at them. While she examined the photographs of some very famous witches and wizards, she intently listened as Slughorn attempted to converse with Harry.

"You look very much like your father, you know," Slughorn began awkwardly. "Except for your eyes. You've got…"

"My mother's eyes, yeah I know," Harry said with a bit of annoyance in his tone. It wasn't the first time he been told this.

"And you Miss Clara, I see that you've inherited your mother's good looks: her hair, her eyes," Slughorn directed toward Clara. "She was a very beautiful witch, I'm sure you very well know; and it looks like the sprout doesn't grow far from the patch."

"Apple falls far from the tree," Clara whispered correcting the old man's botched attempt at a Muggle phrase.

"You do look so much like lovely Lily," Slughorn said once more with a sigh. "Now, I know you're not supposed to have favorites of course; but she was one of mine. Your mother. Such a charming young girl and one of the brightest I ever taught…especially given that she was Muggleborn."

"One of my best friends is Muggleborn and she's the best in our year," Harry argued.

"Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" Slughorn continued.

"Not really," Harry muttered, clearly peeved by this man who was coming off to be quite bigoted.

"You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" Slughorn pleaded. "After I all, I just got telling you that your mother was one of my all-time favorite students! See here," he continued as he pointed to the shelf that Clara stood beside. "She's on the shelf. Anyone who wants to be anybody wants to be on this shelf."

Slughorn gently pushed Clara aside to make room for Harry. Harry stood on the other side of the man and at that moment, Clara found the picture of her mother even before Slughorn pointed her out to Harry. Her mother appeared to be about the same age as her in the picture. The likeness to her mother was uncanny. But it panged at her heart because it hurt that she could look so much like someone and yet know so very little about her. She choked back the tears that threatened to spill. She was at the age in her life where despite the teenage hormones, she could really use a mother. Someone to go to in confidence and for advice; but she would never have that. She inhaled deeply to settle her nerves as Slughorn began to point out the other famous faces he appeared to be quite proud of. The man spoke quite animatedly about his former pupils and at that moment, Clara wondered if that was why Dumbledore brought them. Without really doing much, Harry and Clara were names known around the Wizarding community. Harry for being "The Boy Who Lived" and Clara for being "The Boy Who Lived's sister" and the man appeared to have a certain weakness for those with a name in the Wizarding world. But Clara's thought process was interrupted by the old man.

"Horace, do you mind if I take this?" Dumbledore asked holding up a magazine which made Slughorn look to him in confusion. "I do love knitting patterns, you see."

"Ah yes, of course. But you're not leaving are you?" Slughorn asked with more confusion evident in his tone of voice.

"I think I know a lost cause when I see one," Dumbledore sighed. "Regrettable. I would have considered it a personal triumph had you considered to return to Hogwarts. Oh, well."

Clara looked to Dumbledore. Maybe she had been wrong about him using them to manipulate Slughorn. He just wanted the man to return to Hogwarts to teach; but the man didn't look like much a Defence teacher. But it probably didn't matter much anyway, he would only be there for a year anyways with the jinx on the position. Dumbledore motioned for Harry and Clara to walk toward him, which both twins obeyed. The Hogwarts headmaster then bid his friend goodbye, but Slughorn appeared to be looking rather unsettled about something or another. Only, they didn't sit around to find out what was bothering him. No, the Potter twins followed Dumbledore out of the house and down the cobbled walkway. No one said anything as they walked. They were almost to the end of the lane when Slughorn burst out of the house running and yelling after them.

"All right! All right! I'll do it!" Slughorn shouted as Clara, Harry, and Dumbledore turned to look at him panting for breath on the front stoop. "But I want a raise, you hear! These are mad times we live in! Mad! And I want Professor Merrythought's old office, not that water closet I was in last time."

"Very well, Horace. We shall see you on the first of September," Dumbledore said with a smile.

The newly reinstated Professor Slughorn leaned against the railing, still panting for breath as he waved at them. He watched Harry, Clara, and Dumbledore walk away from the house he was staying at and go down the street. Clara yawned as the group approached a small church before Dumbledore commanded that the twins take his arms again. Clara quickly rubbed at her ears in preparation for the pain before she reluctantly took hold of Dumbledore's arm to side-along apparate. Clara took a breath and closed her eyes tightly as she could feel that familiar sense of being pulled through a rubber tube again. As far as apparating went, she wasn't really a fan, except it allowed one to get from place to place faster.

When Clara finally opened her eyes, she found that they were standing in a field on the outskirts of the Burrow. While she felt incredibly dizzy; at least this time she didn't vomit. They were probably just on the other side of the Burrow's safety enchantments and they were probably specially in place for her and Harry's arrival. Just to make sure, Clara picked up the nearest stone and threw it toward the Burrow; and not too much to her surprise, the stone bounced back toward her. Dumbledore chuckled before he waved his wand to allow Harry and Clara entrance to the Burrow's property. The small group walked quietly toward the dilapidated looking house; but Clara knew that appearances could be deceiving. While on the outside, the place looked like it could use some care; the inside felt like a home. As they walked past the Weasleys' tool shed, Dumbledore stopped.

"If you don't mind, Harry; I'd like a few words with you before we part…" Dumbledore began.

"And I can see where I'm not needed," Clara said. "I'll just go inside and let Mrs. Weasley know that we're here."

Clara skirted past her brother and Dumbledore before she slowly walked down the beaten path to the backdoor of the Burrow. She saw that there was a light on in the kitchen as she approached the house. Clara stepped up the stairs to the Burrow before she firmly rapped the door. She stood waiting for someone to answer with her arms folded across her chest when she saw the kitchen window's curtain move and Mrs. Weasley peering from behind. Clara could hear Mrs. Weasley stepping across the hardwood floor to the door before she began to talk to her through the back door, which was without a doubt, a safety precaution that had been listed in the brochure the Ministry had distributed.

"Who's there? Declare yourself!" Mrs. Weasley said nervously from behind the door.

"It's me, Mrs. Weasley, Clara Lily Potter," Clara answered.

"Are you alone?" Mrs. Weasley questioned.

"Dumbledore is talking with Harry by the tool shed. Can you please let me in?" Clara asked.

Mrs. Weasley somewhat hesitantly opened the door; but her worried expression immediately turned into a smile when she saw Clara standing there. The older woman enveloped Clara in a hug, which Clara willingly returned. With all the emotions that went with not having her mother, it was nice to know that Mrs. Weasley was like her unofficial adopted mother. Mrs. Weasley had welcomed her and Harry with open arms into their home as if they were honorary members of the family. Clara blushed as Mrs. Weasley released her from the hug. She normally didn't receive much affection or loving treatment and had been especially void of it for her stay at the Dursleys. Clara could only hope that someday she would have such a loving and large family of her own one day; one where she would be surrounded by a Quidditch team's worth of children and a loving husband.

"It's so good to see you, Clara," Mrs. Weasley said with a genuine smile. "I wasn't quite sure if you were really you or not because Dumbledore said not to expect you three before morning. Now, let's get you something to eat. I swear you look skinnier every time I see you and you could use some meat on your bones."

The older woman then ushered Clara inside and Mittens, Clara's cat darted right for her. Clara bent down with a smile and picked up her black cat with bright green eyes before she pressed a kiss against his tiny nose.

"I hope you don't mind that I let him out of his cage right before you got here," Mrs. Weasley said.

Clara chuckled as she walked toward Mrs. Weasley holding Mittens tightly in her arms. Mrs. Weasley ladled her a bowl of soup which she set down on the long Weasley table. After setting Mittens back down on the ground, Clara took a seat in front of the bowl as her stomach rumbled. She was probably a little hungrier than she expected to be, especially after apparating. Clara immediately began to shovel the soup into her mouth as Mrs. Weasley placed several slices of bread in front of her. There was then a rap at the back door and Mrs Weasley walked over to the window to check who was there. Clara, knew it was Dumbledore and Harry; but one could never be too careful.

"Who's there? Declare yourself," Mrs. Weasley said.

Clara wasn't close enough to the door to hear the response; but she did notice that Mrs. Weasley opened the door. Harry and Dumbledore walked through the open door and Mrs. Weasley scolded Dumbledore for allowing Clara to come in by herself without protection. Clara smiled slightly knowing how lucky she was to have a person like Mrs. Weasley on her side. Dumbledore gently apologized to Mrs. Weasley before he turned to the twins to bid his goodbye. Clara didn't miss the peculiar glance between Dumbledore and Harry; but she would talk to her brother about that later privately. Harry took a seat beside Clara as he reached down to pet Mittens who was pawing at his feet. Mrs. Weasley set another bowl of soup in front of Harry before returning to her dishes.

"What was that about?" Clara asked.

"What was what about?" Harry asked.

"You know what I'm talking about. What did Dumbledore want?" Clara pressed.

"Nothing," Harry said with a shrug as he took a bite of his soup.

"Nothing, my arse," Clara said.

"Fine, it's nothing for you to get your wand in a knot over," Harry responded. "It's just something between me and Dumbledore."

"Aren't you going to tell me?" Clara asked.

Harry didn't respond. Instead, he just took another bite of his soup. Clara narrowed her eyes at her brother before she returned to her soup. Had Dumbledore told him not to tell her? Normally, they shared almost everything with each other…they were twins after all. It wasn't like Harry to keep a secret from her; but she would just have to press him for details later. She tried to stay positive about this…maybe he just didn't want Mrs. Weasley to overhear them.

"Is Mr. Weasley at work?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he is, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "As a matter of fact, he's running a bit late. He said he'd be back around midnight."

Both the twins looked to Mrs. Weasley who looked rather pensive compared to her normal cheerful disposition. Suddenly, Mittens bolted from the kitchen and upstairs. Clara took a few more bites when she heard a shout of "bloody hell" before she heard a hissing sound. She smirked knowing full-well where Mittens was. There was the sound of thudding footsteps as Ron ran from his room to the stairwell.

"Mum!" Ron Weasley called. "Are Harry and Clara here?"

"Who?" Ginny called back.

"Mind your own business, Ginny," Ron shouted down the stairwell.

"What is this about Harry and Clara?" Hermione joined in.

"Mum!" Ron shouted.

"Ronald, don't shout at this hour!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the kitchen.

"I'm just trying to figure out whose bloody cat viciously attacked me," Ron yelled.

"You probably deserved it," Ginny added.

"Shut up, Ginny," Ron hissed.

"What the hell did you do to my cat, Ron?" Clara shouted.

"Clara!" Ron, Ginny, and Hermione shouted simultaneously.

There was soon a thundering of footsteps from upstairs headed straight toward them. Clara and Harry stood up from the table to meet their friends. Ginny was the first one down the stairs and she immediately ran to give Harry a hug. Clara stood there awkwardly until Ginny moved to hug her. She knew that Ginny had fancied her brother for the longest time which made having a friendship with the girl awkward at times. Hermione was soon down the stairs with a smile on her face and a toothbrush in hand the girl hugged Harry and then moved toward Clara; but stopped short. The two girls were not friends. Clara didn't care about Hermione being a muggleborn, but rather just found her plain annoying. She hadn't liked Hermione from her first train ride. Clara felt that Hermione had always thought that she was better than her. The boys used to side with her, until that troll on Halloween. The boys' opinions of Hermione Granger changed that night; but Clara and Hermione still couldn't put their differences aside. Some said it was because they were so similar, others said it was because of some rivalry over Harry. Whatever the reason was, the girls had never become friends. They attempted to tolerate each other for Harry's sake; but normally it didn't last long. Clara was thankful when Ron finally made his way down the stairs. He hugged Harry and then moved on to Clara.

"Your bloody cat tried to kill me," Ron said after he released Clara from her hug.

"Good kitty," Clara smirked.

A knock on the door interrupted their greetings. Mrs. Weasley hurried to the door and immediately opened the door. Mr. Weasley stopped short and gently chided Mrs. Weasley for allowing him entrance without making him answer a security question first. Ron rolled his eyes at the scene near the backdoor.

"What's the point?" Ron groaned. "If a Death Eater is trying to impersonate me, they probably already know enough about me to do so."

"Your father has an image to upkeep at the Ministry," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Well, the Death Eaters get the same bloody pamphlets from the Ministry," Ron argued.

"One can never be too informed," Hermione said.

"I beg to differ on that one, Hermione. If I never have to hear about who my sister is snogging, it will be all too soon," Harry argued.

"It's not my fault that _someone_," Clara said looking directly at Ron. "Can't keep his big fat mouth shut."

"It was a common courtesy. If Harry saw Ginny snogging some Slytherin, I'd expect him to do the same for me," Ron argued.

"Who I snog is none of your business, Ron," Ginny retorted.

"Exactly my point!" Clara remarked.

"But he was a Slytherin!" Ron argued.

"I happen to be in Slytherin in case you've forgotten," Clara said rolling her eyes.

"Doesn't mean you should be snogging them," Harry argued.

"There was a reason for the madness," Clara said folding her arms across her chest. "Not that you listened the first time I told you; but the only reason I was snogging Theo was to get Malfoy to leave me alone."

"That doesn't even make any sense," Hermione muttered.

"I never asked you if it did," Clara snipped.

"Harry! Clara! I didn't expect to see you two until the morning!" Mr. Weasley said interrupting their conversation.

Mr. Weasley walked over to the group of teenagers to shake hands with Harry. He gave Clara a side hug as Mrs. Weasley walked over to the group with her hands on her hips. She insisted that the teenagers go upstairs and straight to bed. Ron voiced a complaint; but Mrs. Weasley pushed him in the direction of the stairs. Rather reluctantly, the teenagers headed upstairs and headed to their respective rooms as Mrs. Weasley took Harry and Clara to the twins' old bedroom. Fred and George now lived in Diagon Alley above their joke shop. Clara had yet to see the joke shop; but she hoped that she would be able to see it soon.

Mrs. Weasley opened the door to the bedroom and motioned for Harry and Clara to go inside. Clara walked in first, followed by Harry. Mr. Weasley came up the stairs with their trunks. He set them in the corner as Ron came in carrying Mittens. He set her "bloody" cat on one of the beds before Mrs. Weasley pushed him out of the room. Mr. Weasley then moved to stand by his wife as they said goodnight to the Potter twins.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry and Clara nodded their heads as the matriarch Weasleys hugged and kissed them goodnight. As Mrs. Weasley hugged Clara, she whispered about how much Clara looked like her mother. Clara held onto Mrs. Weasley's hug a little longer than normal. While she could never take the place of her own mother; Mrs. Weasley was definitely a close second. When Mrs. Weasley released Clara from her hug, she patted the younger girl on the cheek before she left the room with her husband.

"Which bed do you want?" Harry asked his sister.

"Whichever one wasn't Fred's," Clara chuckled.

"Do you know something that I don't?" Harry questioned with a puzzled expression on his face.

"No, I'm sure Mrs. Weasley changed the sheets," Clara chuckled. "But one can never been too cautious."

Harry and Clara looked to each other. Both of them knew that Fred has slept in the bed on the right. Suddenly, both of the Potter twins ran for the bed that had belonged to George. Clara launched herself from the floor and onto the bed, beating Harry. Harry groaned and started to tickle his sister to get her to flail off the bed; but she held tightly onto the headboard.

"I got here first," Clara said between breaths.

Harry shook his head and gave up as he quickly changed into his pyjamas and crawled into Fred's old bed before Clara attempted to crawl out of bed to change into her own pyjamas. Harry threatened her that if he found anything in Fred's bed that she was going to be in trouble. Clara smiled as she finally curled up into the bed she had fought Harry for. She looked to Harry before she blew out the candle. They Potter twins lay in the darkness for a few minutes before Clara interrupted it.

"Harry, are you going to tell me about what Dumbledore said?" Clara asked.

"Not this time," Harry sighed.

"Why can't you tell me?" Clara questioned.

"I just can't this time," Harry said. "Please don't ask again. If Dumbledore wanted you to know, he would have told you."

"So, you're going to do to me what he did to you last year?" Clara asked in slight disbelief.

"Clara, it's not like that, I promise," Harry said.

Clara rolled onto her side, so that her back was to her brother. Why wouldn't Dumbledore include her? Did he know that she had a hard time blindly trusting him? But why keep her on the outs of something with her brother? Was he trying to tear them apart? Clara was beyond frustrated but it must not have affected Harry too terribly because his snores began to fill the room; while she remained awake mulling over her frustrations.

When she finally did get to sleep; she didn't have any dreams like the one last night. No, instead of some sort of nightmare, she was in a pleasant dreamland. In her dream she and Harry were happy with their parents and plenty of other siblings. It was the life she had always wanted, a life that was only available to her in her dreams. Clara awoke the next morning to find Harry chatting with Ron and Hermione. She groaned and rolled over to see them looking at her.

"Look who finally decided to get up," Harry teased.

"Shut it," Clara groaned.

"We were thinking about a round of Quidditch after breakfast," Ron said.

"As long as _she_ isn't on my team," Clara moaned.

Clara looked to Hermione who was attempting to not let Clara get under her skin; but it was pretty obvious that she already had. Clara slowly sat up in bed and leaned her head back against the headboard as Mrs. Weasley called them down for breakfast. Clara shooed everyone from the room so that she could get dressed before going downstairs for breakfast. She dressed in one of her Slytherin t-shirts and pulled her hair back into a French braid before she headed downstairs. When she got downstairs, she found Hermione sitting in a chair with Mrs. Weasley looking over her. As Clara got a better look she could see that Hermione had a black eye, which caused her to start to chuckle.

"What the hell happened to you?" Clara chuckled and the only response Hermione gave was a groan. "I mean it looks like…"

"I very well know what it looks like," Hermione snapped before Mrs. Weasley attempted to shush her to fix the bruise with a puzzled expression on her face.

"This has always worked before," Mrs. Weasley said. "I just don't understand it."

"That would be the genius of Fred and George. A funny joke to make sure the bruise couldn't come off," Ginny said.

"But it has to come off!" Hermione squeaked. "I can't go on looking like this forever."

"I think it's a vast improvement," Clara smirked which caused Hermione to groan. But Granger knew better than to try and argue with Clara because it would eventually be a losing battle.

"Are you sure no owls have arrived this morning?" Hermione asked.

"I think I'd have noticed if they'd have come. But there's still plenty of time for them to come," Mrs. Weasley chided.

Clara hoped that answer would satisfy Hermione; but then the girl started to complain about how she thought she had messed up her Ancient Runes exam. Clara rolled her eyes and groaned. Hermione had always been such a know-it-all. The girl always complained that she failed everything and yet somehow she always ended up at the top of the class. That left Clara to battle Draco Malfoy for second place. Clara hoped that she has surpassed Draco on their OWL exams so that she would be back in second place again. He was downright dreadful last year because he had the bragging right of being in second place over her third place. Clara could take no more of Hermione's complaining.

"Granger, will you shut up?" Clara hissed. "You're top of our bloody class. Clearly, you didn't fail."

"Yeah," Ron added. "You're not the only one whose nervous here. Besides, after you've got your eleven "Outstanding" OWLs...

"Don't! Don't! Just stop it!" Hermione interrupted. "I know I've failed everything. You wouldn't understand."

"You only took one more test than I did," Clara said. "So other than the fact that you took the Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies and I took Divination, I think I understand your pain."

"Divination hardly counts. It's an utter load of rubbish," Hermione scoffed.

"You just say that because Trelawney hated you," Clara said even though she inwardly agreed with Hermione's stance on Divination.

"And how is making up new ways to die educational?" Hermione asked.

"So…" Harry interrupted, trying to change the subject. "What happens if you fail a class?" Only no one was able to answer Harry's question because Hermione began screeching at the top of her lungs.

"Merlin Granger, you could give the Bandon Banshee a run for her money," Clara said putting her hands over her ears.

Clara looked to Hermione who walked closer to the window, pointing frantically at it. Coming straight toward the house were four black specks. Clara, Ron, and Harry nervously joined Hermione at the window, although they were acting much calmer.

"They're definitely owls," Ron gulped.

"And there are definitely four of them," Harry said with a strained voice.

"Definitely one for each of us," Clara whispered.

"Oh no...Oh no…Oh no…" Hermione frantically whispered.

The teenagers seemed to be frozen in place, so Mrs. Weasley moved to open the window for them. The four owls perched on the windowsill, each owl with a letter addressed to one of the teenagers. Clara reached for the mousy brown owl that carried a letter addressed to Clara Lily Potter. Hermione was still frantic about the situation; but his time Clara let it slide because he was nervous as hell too. Only, she didn't show her emotions on her sleeve. No, like most people in her House; she was rather good at attempting to compartmentalize her emotions. After taking a deep breath, Clara ripped open the envelope and opened the parchment to read her results.

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**

**_Pass Grades Fail Grades_**

Outstanding (O) Poor (P)

Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)

Acceptable (A) Troll (T)

**Clara Lily Potter****_ has achieved:_**

Arithmancy O

Astronomy O

Care of Magical Creatures E

Charms O

Defense Against the Dark Arts O

Divination A

Herbology O

History of Magic E

Potions O

Transfiguration O

Clara breathed a sigh of relief. Her results were pretty good; but not perfect by any means. She looked up from her results for only a second when Harry snatched her results out of her hand. She attempted to fight him to get them back; but he held them over his head which was too high for her to reach. She insisted that her brother give them back when he gasped.

"Clara, only an "A" in Divination?" Harry teased.

"Shut up, Harry," Clara groaned. "Besides, I know I did better than you did. You probably got a "T""

"You know that you can't continue in it now," Hermione retorted.

"I wasn't planning on keeping the class anyway," Clara sneered.

"Shut it both of you! We're NEWT students now and this calls for a celebration!" Ron grinned. "Mum, bring out more sausages!"

"Always thinking about your stomach," Hermione muttered.

Clara walked over to her brother who was examining his results once more. This time she snatched his results. His marks weren't as high as hers; but he marks were still acceptable. The group then sat down to eat breakfast as Mrs. Weasley beamed about all their results. Even though only one of them with OWL results belonged to her; she still was a proud mother hen. Clara was pretty proud of her results; but she only hoped that they were enough to beat Malfoy.


End file.
